ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joseph Grenny is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.

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Dear Crucial Skills,

I am the CFO of a small business. Our president spends money in a way that many of the employees see as wasteful—for example, a landscaping project at the back of the parking lot. Most of the projects relate to the importance he places on the image of the business such as landscaping, updates to the interior, etc. I think this is due in part to a level of affluence and prestige he is accustomed to.

How do I talk to my boss about an issue he feels is very important but that lowers the morale of many employees? Ideally, I would like to see a process implemented where the top management team approves expenditures in excess of a set amount, but I don’t think he would be willing to go this direction.

Signed,
Following the Money

Your question brought back memories—both good and bad. Good because I can relate to your issue. Bad because my advice might be colored by the specifics of my own situation. So with that warning, here goes my walk through memory lane with you!

I once consulted with the president of a very large organization who was accused of the same thing. After taking charge, he began a major face-lift of the company’s facilities at the same time the organization faced major revenue declines and likely layoffs. While people speculated about how many thousands of employees would lose their jobs, they watched the company lobby become a marketing masterpiece of high-tech interactive displays and pricey designer appointments. While they worried about paying their mortgages, they saw the simple greenery lining the approach to the facility torn out and replaced with full-grown, non-native, high-maintenance flora. The parking lot was spruced up, the guard booths redesigned, and on and on. Employees began bitterly describing the effort as a pure ego trip for the sophisticated boss.

While your crucial conversation may have much different issues at play, I’ll offer a few things I learned from this similar situation.

One person’s story can be another’s strategy. The first is a caution. The problem here could be less your boss’s ego than your judgment. It could be that, in his mind, these investments are a very smart decision for the company that he believes will provide a great return to shareholders. In my situation, this was exactly the case. High-end customers regularly visited the facility and the president concluded it was important to create an image that supported their high tech and sophisticated brand. A frumpy lobby and weedy grass conflicted with this image. In fact, the president argued the only way to save jobs was to increase revenues—which meant, in part, positioning the company as a leading-edge player. He felt that if they had not made these investments, they would have appeared to be on the decline.

Now, reasonable people can disagree on either this principle or on the amount spent on the principle. But if you tell yourself a story that the primary reason for your president’s expenditures is ego or detachment from the way real people live, you might feed conflict and resentment rather than understanding and unity in how you influence others who are critical of the president’s policy. I worry you are heading down this path when you attribute his fiscal bias to his personal affluence. Choosing to see it this way sets this up as a character issue when it doesn’t have to be.

Likewise, when you hold this crucial conversation, if the story in your head is that this is about ego, your resentment and sense of moral superiority may color your approach and undermine your effectiveness. It’s much better to come from a story that says, “I think there is merit in this strategy, but there is more merit in spending elsewhere.” This will tend to make the conversation about different assumptions rather than different values—a much easier conversation to hold.

Dialogue is not decision making. I applaud your desire to be a good CFO. I assume from your description of the size of the company that you report to the president, not to a board. If that is so, then your job is to be a strong financial partner to the president, so your question is a mark of your integrity to that role. Being a great CFO means challenging his judgments at times—which is precisely what you are preparing to do. However, be sure you prepare for the fact that you may need to change if he doesn’t. Ultimately, this decision is his and not yours. In fact, if you make a strong case for redirecting capital in other directions and fail to persuade him, there is a risk that your judgments about his motives for the spending policy could subtly mix with your disappointment at “losing” and cause you to feel even more judgmental about his legitimately different point of view. You risk making it an issue of “who is better and who is worse” rather than “what policy is best for the company.”

Before you begin the conversation, Start with Heart. Erase any hope of “winning” or “being right” from your gut. Go in for the sole purpose of providing honest counsel, then be a loyal subordinate if he disagrees. Drop your judgments and accept that you are reasonable people who disagree. Getting to dialogue does not mean you get to make the decision.

Motivate with natural consequences. It sounds like you have two reasons for speaking up. The first is that you disagree with the president’s judgments. The second is that you see it having a negative effect on morale. If the second is truly an issue, that is an entirely separate but equally crucial conversation. If the spending policies are alienating staff, the president should be aware of that. In fact, if you share this information in a safe way with him it may also persuade him to temper his policy. But do not “use” this information to get him to do that. This second conversation is not about whether the policy is right or not. Strategy is not a popularity contest with employees, it’s leaders’ judgment about what is best for the company. And at times (as in my case above), that means doing things people don’t like in order to produce the best long-term result. This second conversation is about leadership not spending. Your goal is to bring the moral issue to his attention and make recommendations for influencing people to help them understand and support the direction more willingly. Period. If the president uses this issue as a reason to question his decision, that’s his personal prerogative.

Call foolishness “foolishness.” Finally, if after reflecting on all these points you truly believe his policy is damaging and self-serving, then you need to have two conversations. The first is with him. You need to make the strongest case possible about demonstrating why this spending is measurably damaging the company.

The second conversation is with yourself—about whether you’re willing to be part of incompetence or malfeasance if this issue rises to that level. From your question, it doesn’t sound as though it does—but I’d be letting you down if I didn’t challenge you to call it what it is if this is the proper characterization.

In my honest consideration, one of VitalSmarts’ greatest assets is our CFO, Yan, who I believe is the best CFO we could possibly have. She has created a culture of financial accountability that has fueled our success for fifteen years. It sounds like you are working to play the same role in your company and I applaud your integrity.

Joseph

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kerry Patterson is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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During this holiday season, we would like to share one of our favorite holiday Kerrying On articles and invite you to watch for opportunities to help those in need.

Over twenty years ago, I received the most amazing Christmas gift. Today I share it with you.

It was December of 1984 and my wife and children and I were eagerly shopping for a teenage boy we had never met. This particular shopping spree was part of a sub-for-Santa adventure we and four other families were undertaking. This was the third year in a row the gang of us had agreed to help a needy family (this year it was a mother, father, and five children) and we approached the task with our usual mix of joy and anxiety. Could we truly help someone? Would we be a blessing in their lives or would we disappoint them?

Two days later, we nervously gathered presents, food, and clothing, piled into our cars, and drove through a constant drizzle to a small house that sported the address given to us by the local relief agency. “It looks small,” said my oldest daughter as five cars chock-full of parents and children pulled up to the house.

Gingerly we carried the boxes to the front porch. (Later my oldest daughter revealed that you could see four noses pressed against the window as the family’s younger children looked on in excitement.) Not knowing exactly what to do, we eventually all gathered in the freezing rain and started to sing Christmas carols. At the end of the second carol, the father of the clan took pity on us, stepped out into the rain, and begged all of us to please come in. “In where?” I thought as I looked around at the crowd and figured if we all went inside, we’d explode the house.

Minutes later as we stood cheek to jowl, the father began to talk. He explained that he had undergone back surgery earlier that year and hadn’t been able to return to work quite yet. It hadn’t been an easy choice, but he had decided that if they were to have any presents for the kids, he’d have to call on one of the local agencies, which he did. He thanked us copiously for answering the call.

“Now, in turn for your presents, I offer you one of my own—in the form of a story,” he continued.

“Eight years ago when we had only two children and I was just getting started in my career, we were facing a rather meager Christmas. We bought my oldest son, who was eight at the time, and his sister who was four, two presents. One was a pair of socks, the other a toy. My son had asked for a basketball, and from the size and shape of his two packages under the tree, there would be no surprise for him that year.” The son, who was now a gawky teenager standing shyly in the hallway, nodded in agreement.

“One evening two days before Christmas I came home with an announcement.” The father continued. “A new family had moved in not far from our house, and since they didn’t have two pennies to rub together, they wouldn’t be having a Christmas. They had a boy and girl the same ages as our family and I was thinking that maybe we could share Christmas with them.

“‘We could each give them one of our two presents,’ my wife suggested as our two children looked on in suspicion.”

“Finally, after staring at his two presents under the tree for what seemed like ten minutes, my son walked over, picked up the package containing the basketball, and said, ‘I’ll share this one.’ Each of us then grabbed one of our two presents, put it in a box, and carried our gift down to our new neighbors who seemed very grateful.”

As he told the story I noticed that my own children were fixed on him, their eyes brimming with tears as they thought of how these people had sacrificed so dearly.

“Later that day,” the father continued to explain, “I received a phone call from my local church leader. It turned out that there were a few families in our little church group that didn’t have any money for Christmas that year. A group of generous people had put together several boxes of presents and food for the needy families. Since I was driving a rather large and beat-up station wagon that had a lot of hauling space, he asked if I would be so kind as to drive to the church on Christmas Eve, load up the wagon, and make the various deliveries. ‘Besides,’ my church leader explained, ‘your two young ones will get a kick out of playing Santa.’

“I immediately agreed to lend a hand. But I knew in so doing I was in trouble. I hung up the phone and explained to my family what I had committed to do, and then shared with them the challenge. We had spent all of our money on Christmas, and the station wagon was almost out of gas. We’d have to find a way to raise some cash to fill the gas tank to make the deliveries.”

“‘We could collect soda pop bottles,’ my daughter quickly suggested. That’s what she had seen her older brother do in order to raise a few pennies. This, of course, was at a time that if you retrieved a discarded pop bottle by the side of the road and took it to a local grocery store they’d give you two cents for it.

“So it was agreed. We bundled up against the wind and snow and all day long the day of Christmas Eve we hunted for bottles. Finally, just before we were due to make the deliveries, we cashed in the bottles, put a couple of gallons of gas into the old wagon, and drove over to the church.”

“As our church leader loaded box after box filled with beautifully wrapped presents into our dilapidated vehicle, my son and daughter looked on in wonder. They sniffed the air with a look of longing as he loaded in a carton containing freshly baked pies and a ham along with all the trimmings. They squished over to the edge of their seat as the boxes stacked one upon the other until our wagon was filled to bursting.”

“Our church leader handed me an envelope containing a list of the various names and addresses of the people we were to visit, and then thanked us profusely for helping with the deliveries. As he drove off I opened the envelope to see the extent of the task in front of us. The small piece of paper I found inside the envelope contained but one name and address. It was ours.”

As the humble man finished his story, those of us who had come to help his family were either openly crying or doing a poor job of holding back tears. I was completely humbled as I envisioned this sweet man and woman and their two children bracing against the wind and searching for bottles—doing their very best to help the needy.

What made the story all the more wonderful was that the gentleman telling it did his best to make the church leader and the other generous members of his congregation out to be the heroes—look how nice they had been to his family, he had explained, just as we were now being nice to them this year.

It had never occurred to the man we had come to help that as thoughtful as his church friends had been to him and his family, our motley sub-for-Santa gang looked on him and his children with a genuine sense of amazement. They were the ones who shared their Christmas. They were the ones who, as others drank cocoa by the fireplace or stirred fudge in the kitchen, trudged through frozen fields in a quest for two-cent treasures. They were the true heroes and didn’t even know it.

My family and I count this sweet experience as our favorite holiday gift. It’s a present that will live with us forever.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kerry Patterson is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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Listen to Kerrying On via MP3
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Thirty years ago, after landing my first consulting job, I could hardly wait to get started. For years, I had studied how to change the world and now it was my turn to roll up my sleeves and actually do something. The goal of this particular project was to take an adversarial, punitive, and authoritarian corporate culture and turn it into a productive, team-oriented place. At least, that’s what the plant manager requested.

“And I want it soon!” the agitated manager told me over the phone. “Or heads are going to roll.”

As I drove to the airport on my way to the anxious manager’s factory, I couldn’t help but notice a bumper sticker sported by several of my neighbors. The popular sticker stated rather immodestly—”Irvine: Another Day in Paradise.” Several hours later, as I exited the Wayne County Airport on my way to visit the client, I noticed Detroit’s version of the home-town promotional slogan on a sweatshirt: “Detroit: Where the Weak Are Killed . . . and Eaten.”

Later that day, as I interviewed hourly employees, I got my first glimpse into the rather un-paradise-like nature of the company I was supposed to help fashion into a paragon of cooperation. When I asked the question “If you ran this place, what changes would you make?” the employees immediately started ridiculing their leaders. At one point, they told of a supervisor throwing a heavy ashtray through a plate-glass window and then chopping up a breaker box with a fire ax—you know, to get his team’s attention. Later, during that same interview, a rather animated employee explained that the ashtray-hurling supervisor’s direct reports eventually grew tired of his shenanigans and one Friday afternoon chased him out to his car. When he climbed on top of it for safety, they lit the car on fire!

Then things turned from scary to complicated. As I interviewed a group of supervisors from whence this ashtray thrower came, they (much to my surprise) seemed reasonable and rational—nothing like the slavering maniacs their direct reports had just described. In fact, they appeared rather pleasant. The supervisors did share one thing in common with their direct reports. They had a bone to pick with their own bosses, the superintendents who, in their words, were authoritarian monsters. Of course, when I met the superintendents, they seemed quite professional, and—you guessed it—they pretty much loathed their bosses, the managers.

As it turns out, everyone at this rather frightening factory blamed everyone else for their problems and everyone—based upon the unprofessional actions of their bosses—felt justified in their own counterproductive behaviors. Why? Because everyone deserved whatever you gave them. And this wasn’t a problem unique to this particular factory, city, or region. As my career has unfolded, I’ve run into similarly violent and reactive places all around the country.

Not everyone lights cars on fire, of course, but the idea of dealing back what you’ve been dealt is still widely shared. It seems one of the values reflected in today’s video games, TV shows, and movies has left its mark. All encourage revenge. For instance, the longest running TV show of my generation, started with the “bad guy” riding into town, getting off his horse, spitting on a nun, and pistol-whipping a schoolmarm. Then, for a full 55 minutes, the good guys sought revenge on that pistol-toting bad guy, who, as we all knew, deserved whatever he got. And to this day, this same troublesome theme continues on the screen.

I recently mentioned our seemingly insatiable thirst for revenge to my next-door neighbor and he chuckled softly and stated, “I have the same problem with my own children. They’ll be in the middle of a squabble, I’ll ask one of them what’s going on, and my oldest son will invariably come back with, ‘It all started when he hit me back!’”

“It all started when he hit me back!” What a clever encapsulation of a contemporary malaise. As long as others mistreat us, we can mistreat them right back. Because, well, they deserve it.

I’ve thought about this issue for quite some time, and as many of you know, it permeates our writing. For example, the principle of working on ourselves first from Crucial Conversations suggests we need to think less about exacting revenge on others and more about our own style under stress. Equally true, maybe we shouldn’t mirror the very behavior we loathe. Transforming others into villains and viewing ourselves as heroes also fuels the fires of getting even. In short, in both our training and books we teach that responding to violence with violence is a bad thing, and I believe we’ve made some progress. In fact, in that first factory where a supervisor wielded an ax, leaders learned to effectively handle high-stakes, emotional conversations, and over the next two years violence decreased significantly.

Today, I hope to take this message to a new audience: children. Actually, I’m hoping you’ll pass the message along for me. I know, asking a favor deviates quite a bit from your standard business newsletter, and writing something for children—why that’s virtually unheard of. But it’s my hope that if we can set kids on the right path while they’re still young, they’ll be better prepared for the unrelenting stream of invitations to violence that will most assuredly assault them as they turn on their TVs, play their video games, go to movies, and eventually show up at work.

So, with the children in mind, and in the spirit of the holiday season, I’ve written a rather Seussian children’s tale that I hope you’ll share with the young ones in your world. It’s not about mistletoe, snowmen, and the like, but apropos to the season of love and tranquility, it shares a message of peace—the kind of peace one creates through a healthy and loving response to how others treat us, even when they’re being naughty, not nice. The short (three minute) story is intended to be accompanied by pictures, but I haven’t arranged for the artwork yet. So for this holiday, I plan on reading it aloud to my grandchildren, sans illustrations. You might consider doing the same.

Download Story Here

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joseph Grenny is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.

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Dear Crucial Skills,

Help! I am the wife of a hoarder. My husband buys and keeps everything. He has a hobby room, garage, and a rented storage unit full of stuff, including twenty-year-old key chains from vendor booths, console TVs from the 1970s, empty boxes, old magazines, plastic silverware, and anything others don’t want or need. It is in no particular order and the spaces are chaotic and embarrassing to the rest of the family. His space at work is in the same condition!

I spoke to him about cleaning up, sorting through, and getting rid of unnecessary items with no success. Do you have any advice on how to approach this?

Signed,
Stuffed Full

Yes, I have advice!

Before I start, please note that my response won’t give you specifics on dealing with hoarding—which is a psychological problem with its own characteristics and about which I am not an expert. I hope some of what I’ve written helps you think about the common challenge every reader of this newsletter faces—the challenge of influencing those we love to change habits that are far larger than a crucial conversation.

This is not a Crucial Conversations issue, it’s an influence problem.

Crucial conversations are great at influencing change when all it takes to change is surfacing an issue and providing straightforward advice and accountability. We have spent twenty-five years studying and writing about these methods because they are often the simplest step forward and the step people are most reluctant and incapable of taking.

But sometimes the behavior won’t yield to a ten-minute conversation and a bit of follow up. For example, a dear friend recently suffered his third heart attack. After his first, his doctor counseled him to change his eating habits, exercise more, and take blood pressure medication. Terrified of the heart attack, he complied with this advice. For a while. But within a few months, he was eating cheesy burritos, channel surfing, and failing to take his medication. Then came the second heart attack. And the second recommitment to changing his behavior. And the second descent into old ways. And so on.

As all this happened, his children and wife had many crucial conversations with him—pleading with him to change, reminding him of how they had almost lost him. But the more they tried to help, the more resentful he became. They became nags, and rather than influence change, they provoked his resistance to change.

When we treat an influence problem as a crucial conversation, we not only fail to produce change, we can (with all the best intentions in the world) become nags in the process. Perhaps you haven’t crossed the “nag” line yet, but if you continue down this path, it is most likely coming!

So how do you escape this trap?

Recognize the size of the problem. The problem is not only that your husband lacks the will to change. The problem is that he is blind and outnumbered. And so are you! He’s blind to how many sources of influence are sustaining his hoarding habit. And he’s outnumbered because there are far more sources working against him than for him.

We often think overcoming a habit like hoarding is just about personal motivation (The first source of influence), but it’s not. It’s also about personal ability (the second source of influence). Your husband likely has powerful impulses that drive him toward this behavior and lacks the skills he needs to retrain those impulses. He needs coaching and mentoring—and maybe even professional help—not just encouragement. If you try to motivate someone who is unable, the result is not change but depression. If you want to help him increase his ability to change, you’ll need to identify the strategies people use to successfully escape hoarding.

Please note that this is an example of just one of the six sources of influence that are likely at play here. Make a study of the six sources of influence and reflect on which are part of the problem. Our forthcoming book, Change Anything: The New Science of Personal Success, will be a useful tool in helping you explore all six sources in the context of personal change.

Control your own behavior. The most powerful human impulse is the need for control. People resist any attempt to constrain or force their behavior. Untold millions have gone to war and given their lives rather than submit to tyranny. We do the same, even when defending our autonomy to behave badly.

If you want to increase your influence, give up any desire to control your husband’s behavior. In fact, the first question you should ask yourself is, “How can I prepare myself for this behavior to continue forever?” You need to get to the point that you decide how you will control your own choices without centering your life on his choices. If, in the extreme case, you would prefer to live without him rather than with his hoarding, you need to be clear on that. If you can cope with the hoarding and would prefer to continue the marriage, lovingly, maturely, and respectfully set boundaries to make it work. Don’t “use” these boundaries as a way to manipulate him.

Help him motivate himself. The most common question we’re asked by those trying to influence a loved one is, “How can I help them want to change?” When it comes to personal change, the answer is, you can’t. However, you can influence their personal motivation in two ways:

Stop standing between him and consequences. Direct experience is life’s great teacher, but we often undermine people’s motivation to change by standing between them and the natural consequences they would otherwise feel. For example, a drug addict who is financially supported by those who want him to change is protected from the financial misery that might help him connect his choices with consequences he doesn’t like. The first thing you and your family can do is examine the ways in which you enable your husband’s actions by not letting him experience the natural consequences of this habit. If you are doing this, find a healthy way to change. If the change will be jarring to your husband, be sure to have a crucial conversation to help him understand what you will change and why.

Help him find his own reasons to change. With most bad habits, people have moments of clarity. Moments when we feel a desire to change. Skillful influencers can help others extend the potency of these moments by reacting with a motivational interview rather than a motivational speech. A motivational interview is a simple, structured way to help others explore and crystallize their own reasons to change and plan for doing so rather than taking control and forcing our own agenda on them. How you react during small moments of motivation can either help others capitalize on them or overpower them with your own well-intended but overwhelming motivations.

Again, I am not an expert on hoarding, nor is this a complete plan for change. However, I hope some of these insights help in the challenge of influencing a loved one to change potentially destructive behavior.

Best wishes—and please let me know what you learn about influence in the coming months and years.

Joseph

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Todd King is a Master Trainer and Senior Consultant at VitalSmarts.

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How can I help participants pinpoint the difference between source 3 and source 4 in the “Master My Stories” lesson of Crucial Confrontations? Is there a clear and concise way to illustrate this difference when other methods of explanation (like “peer pressure” vs. “helps and hindrances”) don’t work?

As you mention, sources 3 and 4 tend to bleed together. Often those who encourage us (source 3) are also the ones who help us (source 4); and those who help us, also encourage us.

Here is one way of thinking about the difference between the two: Source 3 is about encouraging or discouraging a behavior in someone else. Source 4 is about making that behavior easier or harder for the person to do. Source 3 is often verbal. Source 4 can be verbal, but is often behavioral.

For example, I want you to take a longer lunch break than usual so we can eat at a restaurant that I like. Most likely I will try to verbally persuade you into going (source 3). I may also do things to make it easier for you to go, like offering to drive my car or getting someone to cover your calls while you are gone (source 4).

The bottom-line is this: Encourage or discourage = source 3. Making a behavior more difficult or less difficult = source 4.

To help clarify, let’s look at these sources in the context of the video set in the training where Bruce is asking for batteries from Scott.

Scott’s boss told him to “hold off,” encouraging him not to move forward, therefore using source 3. If Scott’s boss had held up the form so the order could not go in, that would be making it more difficult, therefore source 4.

Warmest Wishes,
Todd King

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kerry Patterson is author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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  Dear Crucial Skills,

I used to think I was kind and careful with my words, but I am a month and a half into a new job and feel I can’t trust myself to communicate well over e-mail at all. The time-sensitive nature of solving problems for people means I can’t always ask for the feedback that would help them feel respected, and I find that the tone of my words is rarely interpreted the way I meant them. Do you have any advice for holding crucial conversations over e-mail?

Electronically Challenged

As you’re suggesting, real conversations rarely occur via e-mail. That makes e-mail a particularly dangerous tool for engaging in a crucial conversation. When stakes are high, opinions vary, and emotions run strong, that’s the one time you really need to make use of a genuine, face-to-face conversation. You need all of your faculties for reading the other person’s reaction and electronic tools can severely limit this. To make matters worse, when you’re typing messages back and forth (often separated by a fair amount of time), there’s no room for subtle give and take. For instance, in a face-to-face discussion you might immediately pick up on the other person’s reticence to comply with a request and choose to back off and try a different tactic. You have no such option when you type out your entire request and then wait for a response.

I know I’m preaching to the choir, but allow me to continue with some of the challenges of electronic communication. Imagine writing a lengthy request you know will be difficult for the other person to complete. You also suspect the work you’re asking the other person to do will put his or her work-life balance at risk. That’s not the kind of thing you want to communicate via e-mail. Inevitably, such a request would lay out every element of the project. To the receiver, that would look like one demand heaped upon another—creating stress, concern, and even anger.

I’ve found myself reading such electronic requests and becoming miffed because the other person seems to blindly plow along with further demands despite my growing frustration. While he or she can’t see the frustration on my face, I assume he or she is just being insensitive to my clearly hostile reaction.

Then, of course, time and distance only make matters worse. As I push back from the offensive e-mail request, I fill in the detail about the other person’s motives. Because I can’t see the concern on his or her face or detect the warmth in his or her voice, I assume he or she doesn’t care about me. This person is cold and calculating and not at all in touch with the fact that I will now miss my daughter’s birthday thanks to the request.

It’s little wonder you’re concerned about holding crucial conversations by e-mail. Bad things can happen when you do—particularly when people don’t know you very well. So here are few steps you can take to eliminate or at least lessen the risks.

First, don’t hold truly crucial conversations via e-mail. Whether you’re making a request, offering an unpopular opinion, or disagreeing with someone in a position of power—whatever the high-stakes dynamics—do everything in your power to hold a face-to-face conversation.

If you can’t meet face-to-face, then find a reasonable substitute. Try talking by means of video-chat software. There can be short delays with this medium, but this form of conversation allows for a simple statement, followed by a pause that allows the other person to respond before you’ve plowed on ahead with a massive request. You can also see brows furrowing and other signs of hesitation or even anger and quickly take steps to mitigate the reaction.

If you don’t have video capabilities, a handy invention created on March 10th of 1876 can be of great assistance. Although the telephone cuts off visual clues, it does allow for two important elements of a healthy conversation. One, you can speak, pause, and allow the other person to speak, avoiding the data dump of a single written missive. Two, you can notice pauses, tone of voice changes, and other vocal indicators that the other person is feeling reticent or emotional. Since you’ll miss visual cues, you’ll have to take special care to listen for signs of stress, but you can typically pick up signs before the conversation spins out of control.

I recently asked my son-in-law, who constantly holds high-stakes conversations with people all over the world, what he does to succeed given the challenge of distance, lack of visual cues, multiple parties on the line, and language differences. His response came immediately: “I listen for pauses, tension, and other signs that not everyone is on board with the proposal. I also take special care to invite the opinion of individuals who have remained largely silent. I never assume silence is a sign of agreement. In fact, I assume the opposite until I hear genuine confirmation.”

Now, if you’re facing circumstances where you can only communicate electronically, then use the medium as an invitation to a real conversation. Explain that you need to chat as quickly as possible. Don’t lead with your controversial content. Instead, start with a simple invitation.

Finally, if you don’t have time for a delayed response, then start your request tactfully and tentatively. Since people don’t know you very well, it sounds as if they may be making the worst rather than the best assumptions about your sensitivity to their circumstances. With time, as others learn about your caring nature and willingness to cooperate, people will begin to trust you and you can communicate by multiple methods.

Until then, when forced to follow an electronic path, apologize for using e-mail for making a challenging request. You’d much prefer to talk face-to-face, but demands require immediate action. Explain that you’re sensitive to the other person’s differing opinion or horrendous workload (or whatever it is that will put you at odds), and then lay out (1) the reason you’re pressed for time and (2) the rationale behind this specific request. This typically includes the consequences you, others, and the company will experience if the request isn’t met. Take care to share the context, not just your demands. Then tactfully ask if the other person can comply or can come up with an alternate solution. Finally, thank the other person for his or her kind consideration and end by asking for an immediate response so you know where you stand.

Once again, this is the sort of thing you do only when you have no alternative or if you already have a relationship of mutual respect and trust with the other person.

Kerry

ABOUT THE EXPERT
Steve Willis is a Master Trainer and Vice President of Professional Services at VitalSmarts.
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A little while back, I showed up for a class and found myself surrounded by introverts. And not just any old introverts, I’m talking about an elite group of genetically enhanced super-introverts hand picked from across the company to attend my class.

I asked a question . . . silence. I waited them out . . . in silence. We watched funny videos . . . (you guessed it) in silence. And just to be clear, I’m talking the kind that’s way beyond the sound of silence that Simon and Garfunkel were singing about.

Anyway , nuff said about my group. I’m interested in your input here. Write in and tell me what you’ve done to work with a group like this one. Yours truly . . . in silence.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kerry Patterson is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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The following article was first published on November 24, 2004.

As we embark on two months of holiday gatherings, many of us are wondering what it’ll take to survive the unavoidable conflicts that lie ahead. Friends and loved ones will gather around a cornucopia of recently harvested food and, despite their best efforts to avoid all things hostile, controversial topics will weasel their way into the conversation.

Here’s your common holiday fare. Dad denounces his firstborn for canceling out his vote in the latest election. Granny asks her grandniece why she’s dressed like a hussy—Halloween has already passed. Mom plays the martyr as she tries to guilt-trip anyone who walks through the kitchen into working. She’s been serving up heaping spoonfuls of guilt along with the feast for years.

Eventually, two or more loved ones end up in a contentious debate. What starts out as a pleasant gathering with relatives wassailing each other left and right, transforms into a scene from A Jerry Springer Holiday. And as a result (to put a twist on Jim Croce’s famous tune), we think about the gatherings that lie ahead and we all come down with: “The steadily depressin’, low down mind messin’, celebratin’ holiday blues.”

In fact, 85 percent of the readers we recently polled stated that their family holiday gatherings include at least one heated argument where a valued relationship suffers. Rather than strengthening family bonds with each holiday gathering, one more link in the chain of family unity is further corroded. I speak from experience.

As a boy, I looked forward to each Thanksgiving and Christmas season more than any other time of year. It was a time when I got to sit next to my brother, dad, grandfather, and uncle and watch football. I don’t remember much about the games, but I can still smell the faint aroma of granddad’s nickel cigar and feel the afterglow of the camaraderie that enveloped each event. At dinner, the men would compete for who could load up their plate the highest while the women mockingly chided them for courting a coronary. Of course, nothing earth shaking happened at these gatherings. I guess if the world looked in on these events they would think they were sappy. I thought they were wonderful. We loved and respected each other and it showed.

So why was it that when my beloved family members met in full force for the last time (before kids married and moved away and grandparents passed on), I had to be such a moron? I was now an adult fresh out of grad school where I learned all about the importance of theoretical rigor and solid methodology. So when my cousin mentioned that she was “into” subliminal learning, I couldn’t help myself. Not only did she believe that if she played audio tapes while she slept her brain would magically take it all in (something that had been discredited years earlier), but she also believed that if she listened to her favorite guru yammer on about who knows what, she would be healed.

No sooner had she announced to the crowd that she was speeding down the subliminal highway to sound mental health than I laid into her arguments like a pit bull on a pork chop. Unfortunately, her claims couldn’t be disproved. Her arguments always ended with, “but it works for me.” She was a master at ducking scientific inquiry. For instance, years later she moved a chair in her living room to “alter the room’s karma,” and sure enough she was “back on the road to psychic balance”—or so she claimed.

Not being able to discredit my cousin’s arguments, I pointed out that the one-room-school over a garage where she currently studied family therapy wasn’t a school at all—it was a loosely-coupled gathering of flakes and charlatans. I offered up this heart-felt remark to no effect. In fact, my cousin merely smiled knowingly. I hated that smile. It hit me like a punch to the forehead.

So I punched back. Quickly I moved from lobbing cheap shots to launching a full-fledged personal attack. As I raised my voice, the spirit in the room changed from merriment to discord. My tone clanked against the pleasant background music and gentle chatter. All by myself I defiled the very spirit of the holidays. All by myself I upset the delicate balance of the successful family shindig. And hot dang, I was proud.

My cousin rose to the fight, matching insult with insult. Soon we were one more casualty in the book of failed holiday gatherings—all because of one thing. I just had to be right. I just had to set the record straight. I just had to attack the faulty details. And then for years to come, instead of apologizing for taking a sacred family tradition and sullying it with ill will, I acted as if what I had done was somehow noble.

That’s right. I was just doing my part to defend sound logic and thinking. Others could listen politely while my cousin raised idiocy to an art form, but I wouldn’t take it. I’d challenge her outlandish claims and if I hurt her feelings in the process or dealt the family gathering a death blow, that’s the price I’d pay for defending scientific rigor. All great things come at a price.

This was my story and I stuck to it for two decades.

So, here’s why 85 percent of the people we recently polled experience discord right along with their annual mug of eggnog. Every family gathering that has been brought to its knees by a heated and unsuccessful confrontation contains two or more participants who not only refuse to apologize for their role in the debacle, but who justify their mean-spirited and selfish attacks by explaining that they were merely defending a core value—and how wrong can that be?

Dad wants nothing more than to help sonny-boy come to his senses. That’s why he tries to set him straight. Granny wants her grandniece to quit sending the wrong message with her scandalous attire—so she won’t attract the wrong guys. Mom just wants some credit for all that she does for everyone—is that asking too much?

Let me break from the pack by making a pact. This year I’m not going to sacrifice family unity no matter what anyone says—or no matter how important the value I think I’m defending. Should a cousin announce that her health has greatly improved since she’s started eating a bushel of pine cones for breakfast while spinning hubcaps on her thumbs, I won’t laugh out loud. I’ll ask why and then actually listen. And if I still have a different view, I’ll express it in a pleasant and caring way.

Here’s my plan. I’m going to start every discussion by asking what I really want. Does everyone really have to believe what I believe? Do I really have to win each and every point?

One thing’s for sure—I don’t want to turn every gathering into an event where you can’t talk about anything substantive; I just want to talk about interesting and important issues in a way that doesn’t violate the spirit of the holidays. I want my own children to enjoy the sweet taste of healthy family discourse, good will, and genuine camaraderie. And to keep on track, I’ll continually ask myself: “What is it that I really want?” That’s the plan.

Who’s with me?

Our research shows nine out of ten people who are skilled at holding crucial conversations enjoy their family gatherings—despite the unruly behavior of their relatives.

So to kick off the festivities, our award-winning video team presents Holiday Spice: Relatively Speaking . . .

Share with your friends:

Follow these four recommendations for talking to unruly relatives about their bad behavior so you can strengthen relationships and enjoy your family gatherings:

Work on me first. How you see your relatives determines how you treat them. To soften judgments, ask yourself, “Why would a reasonable, rational and decent person do what they’re doing?” For example, do you see your Uncle Fester with a poor driving record as criminally irresponsible or as harried and in need of help?

Make it safe. When confronting bad behavior, first help the other person know you care about his or her interests. For example, if Uncle Fester is coming down with the flu and kissing everyone he greets, begin with, “Uncle Fester, it wouldn’t be a holiday if I didn’t get a hug. I’m glad you’re so affectionate and warm to all of us, but . . . .”

Just the facts. Start with the facts and strip out accusatory, judgmental and inflammatory language. “Uncle Fester, I notice you are sick. And I noticed you’ve been double-dipping your chips in the bowl . . . .”

Tentatively share concerns. Having laid out the facts, tell the person why you’re concerned, but don’t do it as an accusation—share it as an opinion. “My concern is that with all of us in such close proximity, we’re all going to come down with the flu. I know you don’t want that either.”

Invite dialogue. After sharing your concerns, encourage the other person to share his—even if he disagrees with you. One of the best ways to persuade others is to listen to them. “So Uncle Fester, is there a way we can get your warmth and love without getting more than you mean to give? Or am I seeing this wrong?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kerry Patterson is author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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  Dear Crucial Skills,

Can you address nonverbal communication and ways to control sending messages that you do not intend? I often get feedback that it is my tone of voice rather than my message that people are offended by and that my tone is negative and condescending. This is not my intent. How do I get a handle on it?

Misunderstood

We’ve all heard the old adage that ninety percent of communication is nonverbal. While I’m not sure how one actually measures such a squishy thing, there is indeed truth in the notion that our words alone are not our only way of sending messages. Our facial expressions, volume, tone of voice, and body movements combine to send messages as well.

Not only do we communicate with more than words, we also tend to give more credence to others’ nonverbal forms of communication. For instance, your sister opens a present you’ve just given her, frowns, pauses, puts on what appears to be a forced smile, and says robotically, “Thanks, it’s exactly what I wanted.” Then she tosses your present into her growing pile of bounty.

In your view, your sister’s words of appreciation don’t match her tone, delivery, and other body movements and you’re betting this less-controlled (and possibly more-credible) nonverbal message of disappointment is the message you should believe. In your view, she told you a white lie to avoid hurting your feelings. You may be wrong, but when faced with what appear to be incongruent words and actions, we frequently come up with similar conclusions.

Now, back to you. If others tell you that you sound negative and condescending, it’s possibly because your thoughts are negative and condescending. You might actually be thinking bad things about the other person and you can’t hide your feelings well. Some people are actually quite adept at hiding these negative thoughts, putting on an upbeat face, and moving on without coming across as harsh or condescending. But most of us are not all that good at masking the emotions our stories create. We can only solve our problem by changing what we think about others. When we want to discuss issues professionally and calmly, we can’t hold court in our head, find the other person guilty, and expect to act respectfully and cordially toward them.

We learned the simple truism that the body follows the heart when producing a training video some twenty years ago. We were directing a marvelous character actor who was supposed to deliver the line: “You agreed to have the write-up to me by noon. It’s two o’clock. I’ve received nothing as of yet and I was wondering what happened.” The idea behind the script was to simply describe a problem to a coworker and find out what was going on.

When our friend delivered the rather innocuous line to the other actor, he frowned and emphasized the words “AND I’VE RECEIVED NOTHING AS OF YET.” His delivery came off as an accusation and not as a legitimate inquiry. When we asked him why he was so tough on his “coworker,” he explained he didn’t like being let down and the guy deserved harsh treatment. Now take note; he didn’t change the line one bit, but his tone, expression, and nonverbal actions were aligned with his negative conclusion about the other actor. He thought the guy represented someone who was guilty and treated him as such.

So, for the second take, we told him neither to frown nor to emphasize “NOTHING AS OF YET.” He smiled this time. He also leaned in—nose to nose—and spoke so slowly and deliberately that it came across as a threat. The other actor actually blinked nervously and backed up as if being attacked.

No matter how many times we told him to stop doing something nonverbal and threatening, he’d come up with a new nonverbal cue that implied “you’re an untrustworthy moron” without changing a word from the original script.

Finally, in desperation we told him the other fellow was a good friend who was normally quite reliable and that he was curious as to why he had failed to deliver on his promise. When given this background he delivered the lines perfectly. His new feeling, based on new assumptions, led to new and congruent behavior. Ergo, if you want to repair your nonverbal behavior, alter the conclusion you’ve drawn before you say a word.

This, of course, is what we now teach in Crucial Conversations. As part of the notion “work on me first,” we suggest you inventory the conclusions you’ve drawn about others before you speak to them. If you think others are purposely causing you grief, you’re likely to open your discussion with an accusatory comment. You might even choose tactful words, but your overall demeanor and tone will be accusatory if you’ve already held court and found the other person guilty.

So, when talking with someone who has let you down, start by asking yourself why a reasonable, rational, and decent person would do what he or she just did. Remain curious. Don’t pass judgment before you’ve gathered all the facts. Then, set aside a time to talk in private. Start the conversation with the hint of a smile. You’re not angry; you’re curious. You don’t feel superior; you simply want to surface and discuss the facts. In short, manage your nonverbal behavior by managing your conclusions. See if “fixing your heart” helps to fix your delivery.

Kerry